


Askance

by baeberiibungh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Books, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Peter Hale, Libraries, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: There is a man and there is a boy. Both scarred. One’s shows outside, one’s remain inside…





	Askance

Margeret Beavy was the head librarian at the Beacon Hills Library. She is the one who gives out books and take them back in after careful inspection. She is the one who keeps the tally of the fee fines and tries to bully the older people into paying their dues. She does not do it to children who come in, sit, read quitely, and ask for books with diminished hope in their eyes. They sometimes tend to lose their books. Sometimes the books get torn right in half and sometimes they are brought aloft dripping water with the explanations of being ‘accidents’. Margeret knows of just how these accidents happen, so she tries to give those kids the second hand editions – no big loss if lost or torn or dumped into a bucket of ice cold water on mornings as small hands tries to ineffectually stop them. Margeret have been a librarian for decades and so knows people, in fact prides herself on it. That is until the man and the boy.

The man walks with a limp, in obvious discomfort. It would have left Margeret wondering as to what his problem was if it weren’t for the burn scar covering more than half of the man’s face. The skin was molted, coming off in veiny lumps that must smart every time he spoke or even outright smiled. And it was such a sad thing because from the side without the scars, Margeret could see that he was once a very handsome man. He always sought out books on myths and mythology, theology and old gods, scientific marvels and botany books, short books of love poems and tomes of knowledge. He was always pleasant, his eye very good at looking uncaring, but Margeret knew, knew what it cost the man to be there, to come to the library, to hunt for books among titters and stares and keep coming back. Margeret felt an odd sort of pride for the man, that he came to her to ask about the latest book, that he trusted her more, a tad perchance.

There was also a boy. A teenager. He seems to have a friend who accompanied him on his wild library jaunts. While the man was methodical in his pursuit of knowledge, the boy was a maniac when it came to information. He wanted to know and learn _everything_. His friend read comics and books stories, looking even younger if possible with his crooked jaw and his limpid eyes. He also tried to do his homework, inevitably asking his friend for help more often than not. The boy was patient when it came to hisd friend, but with nothing else, not even himself. Margeret knew of the boy as the sheriff’s lone son, a bit odd after the wife’s death, but she is yet to get a tart answer from him till date. Margeret had laughed into her hands over the great many snark filled sentences that from that boy’s mouth. He wore his sarcasm like an armour, and it fit him rather well.

It was perhaps inevitable that the man and boy would meet one day in her own blessed library. It was bound to happen when both had made reading almost a sport and finding book a hunt. In an almost romantic gesture, both of their hands fell on the same book. Then, much to Margeret’s horror and amusement, both started a tug of war over the book right there. 

“Gentlemen,” Margeret directed to the duo, who suddenly stilled with commically faces turned towards her. “As much as you want, this is not a playground and that book you are tugging is most definitely a toy. If you do not know how to share a book, then this place is not for you,” Margeret ended sternly.

The boy, (his name was Stiles, right?), tripped over his own feet to fall on the desk with a loud thump from his outstretched hands. “Mrs. B! You do not mean that. This is like my home. It’s that idiot’s fault for trying to steal my book,” Stiles insisted rather loudly in the silent library.

Peter, already blustering before he could say anything in his rage, walked towards the desk and turned to Stiles and said, “Just because you do not understand the concept of a library, does not mean that I am an idiot. This book is public property that the library lets us have for free, no one _owns_ it. Do not be so asinine before I had my first coffee of the day yet Stiles!”

“Well I don’t see why book thieves should even be offered books. You are going to steal them anyway,” Stiles spitted back.

“What in the everloving fuck are you talking about? What book is it that I have stolen as per in accordance with your superior intellect and omniscience?” Peter fired back.

“You very well know I mean that anthropology book that I have asked Mrs. B to keep aside for weeks, except that the book is lost in the computer system, and yet I distinctly remember seeing you read it at that coffee shop you love so much, as much of a fixture as the coat rack,” Stiles said, his cheeks red and ears pink in anger and perhaps a bit of embarassment.

“You gaily painted nincompoop, and yes I used that word because it fits you exceptionally fine, I was reading my own book. That was my copy that I had brought because I liked the book so much. I don’t need to steal anything, I can buy all the books I could ever want,” Peter replied in a too sedate a voice.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that now did I?” Stiles pouted back.

Margeret had to let out a huge guffaw at the look on Stiles’ face and had to explain, “Stiles, when a book is sent to be restored, it is shown not available in records. I thought you knew that. If it is the book you are talking about and I am pretty sure it is, that it has been sent to be rebound and the spine corrected. The book Peter has is definitely his as the library edition is not even in the county. You owe Peter an apology.”

Stiles rubbed his neck in obvious embarassment, and uttered, “I’m sorry Peter.”

In a gentle voice, Peter said, “It’s ok.”

“But I called you a thief…” Stiles added miserably.

“Stiles you are the first one to call me anything at all without a pity or shame. I rather enjoyed that,” Peter said in a more lively voice this time.

Both Margeret and Stiles winced at that and with a slight shrug Stiles shrugged and walked away.

Peter looked on with a strange kind of hunger in his eyes. Margeret wanted to ask about it, the boy definitely too young, the man not. But she let it be for now. She will have her askance later.

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudo and comment. no beta and English not my first language.


End file.
